Dear E. Jean: I'm a 24-year-old exotic dancer pursuing massage-therapy certification. As a homeschooled teenager I was emotional, but I've never felt entirely depressed. Lately, though, I've had a growing problem with fear. I'm terrified of the end of the world. I don't want to witness horrible things. I love my life, but it's getting hard for me to live it to the fullest while I'm waiting for (quite literally) "the bomb to drop." Am I crazy? I can't sleep well because of my thoughts, panic, and nightmares. I don't know if it's my parents always teaching me to "be good for when Jesus comes," or that I've watched too many movies, or that I'm just scared of emptiness. What do I do? I even feel bad putting this into words—it might make it come to pass! —Help Me Ditch the Darkness

Miss Ditch, My Dearest: Bah! What with the Mayan calendar counting down to an eve of destruction this December, the 4,700 asteroids on a collision course with Earth, rogue countries developing the bomb, and Stephen Hawking predicting that we'll blow ourselves up, no wonder you're a tad jumpy.

The Times' Maureen Dowd says astronomers are reporting that "fear of the universe has been growing"—even little kids are so afraid they can't sleep—and that she personally is suffering the "cataclysmic creeps."

Me? I'm a bat-pig-virus-kills-off-thehuman- race girl. I was handling my fear pretty well, washing my hands just 30 or 40 times a day, when I accidently read the great science writer David Quammen's new book, Spillover, about the next "human pandemic." I have to say: It's the scariest book I've ever read. (Heck, the cover caused me to never want to touch any surface in a restaurant again.)

So yes, Ditch, old girl, the rational reaction to living in 2012 is the jitters. But "panic" and "nightmares"? Not a good way to live. With deep respect for your esteemed parents, I'm guessing they did not train you to be skeptical, right? So when as a little lass you were told "Jesus is coming" (and that you "must be good"), and now as a grown-up woman you're pursuing the sublime art of exotic dancing (would Jesus frequent a gentlemen's club?)…a little apocalyptophobia is understandable. Book a few sessions with a therapist. She'll help you come up with strategies to drive out the fantods.

And, for God's sake, buck up! Archeologists have discovered the extended Mayan calendar in Guatemala, and the bugger debunks all the "end times" drivel. NASA promises that it can divert those 4,700 asteroids, and Stephen Hawking swears technology will send humans out beyond the solar system. When we blow up two or three continents, so what? We'll be safe on a new planet. Anyway, a little anxiety is good; if you're not stressed, you lack the motivation needed to ace your life.

Meanwhile, failing to wash "the harmful bacteria" off my reusable grocery totes may not kill me. But if I see one more movie where a dickwad in a leotard saves Earth from annihilation, I'll die of boredom.